


The Days of the Weekend

by suenoteamor



Series: Vestments of Purple and Gold [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dean Centric, Dreams, Sick Dean, Stream of Consciousness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-02
Updated: 2013-02-02
Packaged: 2017-11-27 20:52:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/666369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/suenoteamor/pseuds/suenoteamor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It must be Tuesday. If only two more.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Days of the Weekend

With the rain and the clouds and the curtains and the damn pitter patter pitter of all of them on the warm cold of shingle floors. Nothing to trust me against the stars threatening to fall with the metal water burning through the roof. Not a feather of grace between the two before I fall to the porcelain altar again, slow prayers for a slower end. Time with no seconds with the snap of a screen and shudders of eyebrowed worry slipping in and out the hinged creaking, and I'm praying again, sacrifice my guts with a cupful of wine.

Books and books and pages screaming litanies in languages I don't know, have every reason to know and then the altar again. Rest and rest some more but no I want to sleep but don't sleep just rest and I want to read before again the altar. Just don't sleep yes yes I was the good little soldier remember just don't sleep.

Sweep and a brush of hair. No no, don't sleep sleeping was bad don't sleep. Conscious wash away the brush cool drops in my ear cold in empty guts oh rush of breeze across my spine. Cooling cooling and the eclipse no moonbeams and the ocean with sweet sweet citrus of the beach waves breaking down my neck if only for a moment but wake wake wake yourself don't sleep just read read and rest. Perfect timing to rest, oh so perfect altar read rest.

Ah, not long now. Stop saying that. No this is actually comfortable. It's okay. I'm okay. The altar says everything will be alright. It's written in red. Red means it's final. Oh but there was never red on those paper only the ones I wrote yes yes I had all the red. Prizes only I prize like little cords and altar idols all that I throw away because prizes aren't kept. Don't say that I'll find a way to Oh the altar says so it must be. Half a stomach and your left eye it'll all be alright.

It must be Tuesday. If only two more.


End file.
